


worlds collide

by orphan_account



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: 1984, American Horror Story: Freak Show
Genre: Blame Jimmy's influence, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Gen, Montana is softer than she is in canon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 06:31:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21157172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A series of crossovers in the American Horror Story universe.





	worlds collide

**Author's Note:**

> For L. Again.
> 
> It's honestly a sin that some of these characters have never met, and so I decided to fix that.

Sliding into a seat in some shitty diner in Nowhere, Florida, Montana couldn’t quite believe the turn her life had taken. Just weeks prior she’d been dancing on a Hollywood stage, but then she’d made the mistake of resisting the owner’s gaze and then his hands and now she was fresh off a bus that reeked of disappointment, having been laughed out of every audition that followed.

Apparently her boss had a _tiny_ dick but a _huge_ list of connections, who’d have thought?

Now, she was due to meet some German chick at some circus thing that a girlfriend had told her about, with nothing more than her own talent and her own word to back her up. She sighed, staring at the menu and trying to decide what meal would mean the least calories before winding up with a lukewarm cup of coffee in her hand. At least it would keep her awake until she was back at the motel and could paint her face back on.

She yawned in spite of the hit of caffeine, turning to examine the rest of the measly diner’s occupants before realizing she was being watched, stared at, by some pretty boy with a curl in his hair and motorcycle gloves still on his hands, grasped around a glass of what looked to be homemade lemonade. He smirked at Montana, looking less the cat that ate the canary and more like he was just relieved she’d finally noticed.

“If you keep up that dumb look on your face, it’ll stick that way,” Montana called across the distance between them, hiding her own smile. He was cute, handsome, but she wasn’t one to make things easy on the other sex. Or the same sex, come to think of it, though she didn’t like her chances of getting pussy in this part of the country.

Fuck, she missed LA.

“You’re not from around here,” he said, and without any invitation he crossed the diner and sat one seat down from her, still nursing his lemonade between his gloved hands.

“What, the accent?”

He shook his head. “Nah, nothin’ that obvious. It’s the look. Like you’re...”

“Crawling out of my skin to get away from here?”

At that his smirk turned into a grin, and Montana thought to herself that to be deprived that smile must surely be a sin. “Exactly,” he said. “Eyein’ all the exits like you’re preparing for a fire only you know’s coming. You not eating, huh?” He asked, then. “The Salisbury’s to die for. That, and everything else on the menu might kill you.”

He shot the waitress a wink, then, so that she’d know he was kidding, before turning back to Montana and taking her in. It was possible, probable, that he ran through this routine with every woman that waltzed through this town, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t like it, that she couldn't have fun with it. “I’m Montana,” she said, an olive branch, barely. “I just got here from Los Angeles.”

“Jimmy Darling,” he offered in turn, although not with a hand, and Montana thought to herself that had to be a fake name. “Los Angeles? City of Angels, and all of that? Why the hell would you choose to leave a place like that for a… well, it’s no Honolulu, or Paris, or even _Orlando_, let me tell you.”

It hadn’t been a choice, Montana was tempted to say, and part of her wanted to unleash a rant about the whole thing and how she’d maybe have made it to New York City if she’d just kept her damn mouth shut and let the guy do whatever he wanted to do to her, but something told her it wasn’t the time or the place. And, anyway, wasn’t she trying to play the long game? “I wanted… something different,” she decided on. “And I'd heard good things about the circus.”

Jimmy laughed, then, sliding one seat closer to Montana as if he had a secret to tell her. “Well, now I know you _must_ be some sorta undercover cop, because nobody’s said nothing good about that circus for as long as I’ve been a part of it.”

“You’re in the circus?”

“I work in the freak show,” he answered, giving no indication as to what might make him freak-ish. She thought nothing of it, and he sipped his drink. “You’re here to audition, aren’t you? Well, I’m no psychic, but Elsa’s been talking about dancers for the new act for weeks. Thought she might have finally given up.”

“That’s - that’s what I’m here for,” she said, maybe a little hopeful. Maybe this guy was her way in if talent alone couldn’t impress the German woman. “I’m supposed to meet with her at four.”

“I’ll drive you over there. My bike’s just outside,” Jimmy said, gesturing with his gloves.

Montana started to interject, not wanting to seem more needy than she was: “Oh, I need to do my makeup…”

“I’ll drive you back to your place. _Wherever_ you’re staying. Can’t be more than two motels within twenty miles, so it’s no pressure on me. Come on,” he threw down a few dollar bills, then, finished his drink. “Let’s get going now and I can tell you all about Elsa. Just know _this_, Montana from Los Angeles, she _always_ has to be star of the show. Remember that, and you might have a chance.”

Then, before she had a chance to argue, Montana was being nudged out the door by an almost perfect stranger, climbing onto his bike and wrapping her arms around him for security. He turned around to see that she was comfortable, and she nodded, and off they went.

* * *

For reasons completely unbeknownst to Montana, Jimmy stuck around on his bike while she fiddled with her makeup and her hair and slipped into something more appropriate for showing off her dancing. She'd told him he could wait in the room but he'd insisted otherwise, like some kind of gentleman, and so she'd taken a little less time than she might to get ready. From what little Jimmy had told her about this whole circus, she didn't need to put in as much attention to detail as she had with her LA callbacks, anyway.

That, and her confidence was a little high from the way that the boy had been looking at her even though she was fresh off several days on a bus and hadn't put any work into her appearance when they met. She grabbed her purse and headed on down to his bike, and kept _her_ face neutral as _he_ made a face of awe at how she looked now that she was wearing powder on her cheeks and color on her lips. "You ready to go?" she asked, as if he had anything else to do than sit around and wait on a girl he'd just met. 

"Yep, hop on, LA," he said, smirking again, and it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before they were arriving at the ground, into a sea of trailers and tents and faces she didn't recognize. Jimmy had reminded her that she'd be seeing things she wasn't used to be seeing, and that was certainly the case as she watched a person walk on their hands, a woman with a beard, and what must surely be the world's smallest person.

But that wasn't the point of being here, and Montana was determined to focus on the task at hand as she was introduced to Elsa Mars, a woman who wore makeup that didn't match her age and whose perfume was much too extravagant for a place like this. Before long, music was playing and Montana was showing off every move that she knew, stealing from dancing she'd done in routines on the other side of the country what already felt like a lifetime ago. 

As she finished, Elsa clapped, and she took Montana's face into her hands as if she were her granddaughter and not someone she'd just encountered. "_Liebling_," she said, a tired smile stretched across her features. "I don't think you belong here, but we are honored to have you. You can start tomorrow, if you like. Jimmy will show you somewhere to sleep. Go, _go_."

Not quite sure whether to take the comment as a compliment, she went as she was told and found Jimmy, who practically bounced at the news that she was in. Just that alone was enough to untie the knot of uncertainty in her chest, because if there was one thing she lacked in LA it was people. She had friends, of course, but only on the most shallow level, and she was pretty sure that every single one of them would have fucked her over if given the chance to get an audition. 

"Now I get to show you around," Jimmy said, and Montana nodded, looking around and trying not to be overwhelmed as several people came over to approach her, a welcome wagon of sorts. It was moving, really, the rapport that Jimmy had built with them all, the fact that they were more family than just friends and she got the impression that there was little that they wouldn't do for one another. "And over there, that's you'll be sharing with the other dancers. It sucks, I know, but a bed's a bed, right?" 

Montana nodded again, figuring she couldn't really complain when she didn't have money for a bed back in Los Angeles. "Where do you sleep?" she asked, then, not having noticed his trailer or tent on the tour of the grounds. She was curious, which didn't make much sense to her. She'd never really been curious about or cared about anybody, not since she left her parents, not since she discovered that in her city there was only one person you could put first: yourself. This guy was having the strangest effect on her.

Jimmy offered his arm and she hooked hers through his, almost instinctively, and then she was being led to his place in this all. "It's not much," he shrugged, then sat on the bed. He was still wearing the gloves, and shifted from one foot to another, thinking. 

"What are you doing here, Jimmy?" she asked, suddenly, before she could stop herself. Really, it was none of her business, and it wasn't like she'd been totally forthcoming with her own reasoning, but she'd never been known for beating around the bush, for avoiding hurting feelings. Not that she was outwardly searching to hurt his, not today. "You don't seem like... well, like Elsa said, like you _belong_ here." 

"Trust me," he said with a breath of a laugh, slumping back against his bed and staring at the ceiling. There was a hint of sadness that Montana might otherwise not have detected if she wasn't so invested in this strange, kind boy. "I _belong_ here."

Sliding onto the edge of the bed to watch him as he stared at nothingness, Montana tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth. "Well, you already _said_ you're not a psychic," she pondered, and then her eyes landed on the gloves again. Either he was a germaphobe or he was really, really into leather. Or he was hiding something. "Are you super strong, or something?"

"Not especially," he turned, then, to lean on his elbow and look up at her. "You really wanna know?"

Montana nodded.

Jimmy sighed, then, before sitting upright. "I'm a _part_ of the freak show, like all those other people you met," he started, before tugging on his gloves and removing the first, and then just as swiftly the second. Montana's eyes widened at the sight, hands oversized, fingers seemingly fused together so that they looked... _lobster_-like. "Disgusting, right?" 

Montana shook her head. "No, it's - it's not that. I don't, it's just that I've never seen anything like it."

"That's why they call it a freak show, LA." 

She rolled her eyes, then captured his gaze. It didn't seem fair that someone as handsome as him be so down on himself, and in that moment she decided to do something about that, her hand reaching across to take one of his, lifting it up to hold it. "I bet you're popular with all the girls," she mused, confidence in this area coming easy. She'd been nervous, early, a little shell shocked by everything that she'd seen, but it was natural to fall back into this flirtatious, overly sure-of-herself manner. 

Jimmy laughed softly. "The ones that aren't horrified, sure."

"I'm not horrified."

"No?"

Montana shook her head, then, shifting so all of her body was on the bed, and then pulling his hand to rest over her chest, over her heartbeat. 

"Well, hell," Jimmy murmured.

She kissed him, then, the hand that wasn't resting over his going to the side of his face to caress his cheek. It wasn't as if she wasn't used to random hookups, but there was something uniquely intimate about all of this, something that made her heart beat a little faster – and surely he could feel it – and it wasn't long before she was shirtless and he was sliding his hands up her ballet skirt, testing, teasing, through the fabric of her underwear. "You sure?" he asked, and she had to fight the urge to laugh, kissing him quiet but nodding so that he'd know that, yes, she was. She was so fucking sure.

His fingers pushed the hem aside, then, and he slid two of his fused fingers into her, causing her to moan breathily. She was right, he had to be popular with women, because no man had ever managed to make her feel like this, and she arched her back against the bed as he kept up his motions, closing her eyes for a few moments before she opened them to take in Jimmy's expression, his lip between his teeth and a grin across his features. God, if this was what it was like with a freak, she never wanted anybody normal again, and she was about to say such a thing when his palm grinded against her clit in just the right way, and she felt herself coming. 

And then just as quickly she was coming again, determined to return the favor as her hands searched for his hardness through his pants and stroked at his impressive length. He helped her slide off his pants, a little frantically, and then him her skirt, and then he was guiding himself into her and pressing his forehead against hers as he started moving inside her, unable to resist the strangled cry he unleashed as he came inside her. "Jesus Christ, LA," he panted, laying down next to her, lightly tracing circles on her arm with his fingernails. "I think Jupiter just became the new City of Angels."

* * *

Curled against Jimmy's side, listening to his faint snoring, something told Montana that Elsa was wrong: she did belong here, and she was determined to prove it. 

**Author's Note:**

> This may be 1/2, depending on inspiration. I am open to any requests for any other characters!


End file.
